


Spilled, Sweet

by jotunblood



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Lactation Kink, Male Lactation, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 16:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15295668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jotunblood/pseuds/jotunblood
Summary: It didn’t happen often, but when it did, Kylo could sense it coming from days away.





	Spilled, Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I was only going to post this on tumblr, but as it's longer than expected it's coming here too for easier reading. Heed the tags! This probably won't be for everyone.

It didn’t happen often, but when it did, Kylo could sense it coming from days away. 

It began as slight soreness, which slowly developed to a deep ache. By week’s end his chest sang, nipples standing in stiff, pleading peaks. If he wasn’t careful they’d rub raw on his tunic, compounding his ache, or worse: the stimulation might set him on a drip. It happened occasionally, and while the stains washed clean, the embarrassment lingered. Even if the fullness of his chest could be ignored, the leaking couldn’t. When recognition flared, the looks he received were unbearable.

When it finally happened in front of Rey, the shame nearly ate him alive.

The cycle was a week on by then, his first in almost a year. He suspected stress was the culprit. So much of life had been in flux, but now that he was settled, his body seemed eager to make up for lost time. The ache built fast, peaking after only a few days and holding at a steady throb. He relieved it when he could, massaging his chest until the pressure broke, spurting out in milky streams. Pale the first night, but richer now, more nourishing. 

Not that it needed to be. Not that anyone depended on it, in even a pleasurable sense. It was wasted like this, but he supposed it was better spent out of sight. If the occasional leak was mortifying, how much more so would this be?

“What happened?” Rey asked, sounding mildly concerned. Kylo hummed a question, not looking up from his datapad, and she huffed. “Your shirt, Ben. Why’s it wet?”

“What are you--” he began, distracted by his reading. When he looked down, however, saw the tell-tale blooms of milk, the words snagged in his throat.

Because _of course_ it would happen now. Not earlier, when he'd been alone. It was his own fault, he supposed. Expecting to spend the day alone, Kylo had skipped his midday pump. Without the threat of public leak, it was more pleasurable to let the ache build. Ignored long enough, the desire to squirt became indistinguishable from that for another release. If he edged it, teased his cock and chest for spittle, he'd come beautifully when he finally squeezed. The relief alone was enough to tip him over, but the sight of the spray sweetened it.

“Did you spill something?” she asked, peeking around for a cup.

“It’s nothing.” He paused, drew a blank. “Just sweat.”

Rey’s brow quirked, and he regretted the lie instantly. This was Belsavis, after all. No one sweated here.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Putting her pad down, she scooted in, one hand reaching for his chest. He sucked in a breath and tried to draw back, belatedly remembering he was resting against the bed. He bumped it, cussing, and Rey’s frown deepened. She didn’t alter her course, however, didn’t even slow. Aware that there was nothing he could do now, Kylo stilled, begging his body not to betray him.

Which-- miserably, deliciously-- it did.

When her fingers pressed, kneading his tender chest, a fresh burst of milk soaked his shirt. He whimpered, both embarrassed and thankful for relief, and screwed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see her face when she connected the dots, had seen the expression on others often enough to guess it. Being so intimately confronted was new, but that couldn’t be helped now.

“Is it...” she began, more curiosity in her tone than malice, “Is it milk?”

Kylo flushed. He didn’t want to answer, because surely she could guess. He wouldn’t make her though, not with her fingers still on his chest, capable of deepening their sudden imbalance with another deft press. Kylo ached for that as dearly as he dreaded it, and the tension between the two made his teeth ache.

“It is, isn’t it?” Rey cocked her head, eyes narrowing on the spread. “I didn’t know men could.”

Kylo hadn’t either, still didn’t know if it was normal. He'd never mustered the nerve to ask. He considered fibbing, saying that it was a common enough, but decided against it. She'd scent it immediately.

The woman seemed to roll something over in her mind, then sat back. “Does it hurt?”

Kylo, who'd been prepared to flinch from whatever mockery came next, felt his face go slack.

“What?”

“It seems like it would.” Rey gave a light press, coaxing out another slug of milk. “Aren't you sore?”

“Yes,” he answered, too raw and quick. He shouldn't have waited to pump. “But, ah, not always. It can be relieved.”

“How?”

He bit his lip, wondering if she was toying with him, and why, and how cruelly she'd laugh if he begged for her help. It wouldn't take much, not now that he was full.

“I, ah--” Kylo averted his eyes, swallowing dry. “I squeeze, when I’m...like this. Not hard; hurts if I’m rough. But if I’m careful, it helps.”

“Squeeze,” Rey repeated. “What, with your hand?” He nodded, and something odd lit her eyes. “You do it yourself?”

“Who else?”

She shrugged. “You have friends. Partners.”

Kylo’s nails cut into the floor. He couldn’t deny that he’d thought of it: Rey’s hand or Finn’s, gently massaging his tender chest for feed, angling the spray just so into their sweet, open mouths. But it was a fantasy; not even a serious one. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe either would--

“Lift your shirt,” Rey said, so suddenly that Kylo wondered if she’d been digging through his thoughts. He hesitated, eyes narrowed, and she sighed. “Please. Let me help.”

He considered refusing-- was this is trick? He still wasn’t sure-- but his eager hands betrayed him. They fisted in the hem of his tunic, tugged it up to bunch beneath his collar. Rey whispered something that sounded like good before focusing on his chest.

“You look--” She paused, and Kylo could almost hear her cycling through the options. “Heavy,” she said finally. “Full.”

She whispered the last, sounding almost reverent, and Kylo’s heart tripped. 

“I am,” he grunted. “Should’ve done this sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?” 

A fresh flush crept up his neck, and he squeezed his thighs together, willing the throb between his legs to abate. Rey read it, and her eyes blew.

“I see,” she said, voice dipping low. “It feels good, then? Milking yourself?”

He groaned at the phrase, head knocking back, and Rey took advantage of the slip. She swung a leg over his, trapping him with her thighs, then laid a hand on his chest.

“That’s what you do.” She shifted, coming to cup the lower swell of his chest. It sat heavy in her hand, almost burning against her cool palm. Kylo moaned in relief, and her breath caught. “Like a cow missing her calf: heavy, bleating, desperate for relief.”

 _Kriff_ , he thought, giving up the hope of curbing his arousal. It tented his pants now, nestling against the covered warmth of her thighs. 

“It’s not the same, is it?” she continued. “Without a mouth to feed. You can forget it a while, but without someone to latch--”

She trailed off, raising her free hand to the opposite curve of his chest. This one didn’t cup, though. As if to demonstrate her point, she took a swollen nipple, rolling it between her thumb and finger. Kylo’s vision flared, and he felt a warm burst of milk dribble down his belly.

“I could help,” she said, affecting neutrality, but Kylo heard the tremble in her voice. “If you want.”

He did want it, terribly. He arched his back, pressing more of his heavy chest into her hand. Taking it as her answer, Rey ducked, bringing her mouth to the tip of a leaking nipple. She hovered there a moment, considering. Then, carefully, she wrapped him in her lips and sucked. 

Kylo felt the first pull like the snapping of a string. The pressure of her mouth was crippling, dragged out a sob that rattled out into a moan. She suckled tenderly, nose brushing his skin, squeezing every few pulls to stimulate the flow. Biting back a thankful bleat, he abandoned his hold on the tunic to grip her hair. He threaded at her nape to pin her in place, heard himself begin to mutter a senseless. She was sweet, terribly so, tender and starving and _good_ , always good. The words tumbled out in a tangle, put color high in Rey’s cheeks, and she sucked harder, drawing out a thick stream.

He wasn’t sure how long she worked him, only that when she finally pulled away his nipple felt raw. His whimper edged on pain as she withdrew, but the emptiness he felt after was a blessing. The ache in his chest was gone, siphoned by Rey’s mouth and hands. The only evidence of it now were the few splatters left on his belly, and the dribble working down the woman’s chin.

“Better?” she asked, voice thin and sated.

Eyes sticking on the spilled line of milk, Kylo nodded. She smirked, wiped clean on the back of her hand, then sat back.

“Good,” she said. “Don’t let it go so long again. You’ll ruin all your shirts, and besides--” She reached for her pad again, tapping the screen to wake it. “Food is a terrible thing to waste.”

**Author's Note:**

> The author has no excuse.


End file.
